


I’m Fine, okay?

by AnonymousTRASH101



Category: Youtube RPF
Genre: (Maybe more characters to come because this was poorly thought out), (What I was going for), Big Spoon Ethan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I just thought about okay?, I’m SORRY Tyler okay?, Little Spoon Tyler, M/M, Pining Ethan, REAL ANGSTY, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Deprecating, Self-Esteem Issues, Tyler Scheid Centric, Tythan, depressed Tyler, idfk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousTRASH101/pseuds/AnonymousTRASH101
Summary: So. Tyler has some problems. He has a shitty life, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He hates himself, hates what he looks like, all that crap. Ethan doesn’t know much, but he knows something is up. Either Tyler lets him in, or he’ll bring in Mark, and Mark is like the father of everyone. No one wants such a protective dad like that. But maybe Tyler needs him. Who knows?





	I’m Fine, okay?

**Author's Note:**

> Soo.! My nerves are on fire. I don’t think many people do a depressed Tyler. Mostly I just see that for Ethan. And I also haven’t seen much little spoon Tyler. Personally, in my eye, Tyler is just a little kid and Ethan is the big brother, there to fend after Tyler. I don’t know, okay? Just read if you want. I might not even continue after this, who knows? But, maybe you’ll like it. Enjoy!

Tyler’s POV

  
Tyler slowly wakes up from the darkness, first feeling his limbs tingle from before feeling nothing. Then, he can feel his mind coming back to life, and he can hear his thoughts. He can feel the curses and the insults bursting before his brain. He winces sharply, hating the mornings, since he can feel them all at once when he wakes up. _Sometimes_ , well. More often than not, he wishes he could never wake up, only to feel nothing; be rid of the pain so many others have caused him. To be rid of his own thoughts about himself. He blinks his left eye open slowly, wincing as the bright lights from the window burn his retina. Someone must’ve raised the blinds. Or maybe he forgot to close them last night.

He blinks open the other eye, and uses a lot of his strength to look over at his digital clock to see what time it was. The clock read 5:45. Dang, he thought. He hated that he was an early riser. Tyler liked his sleep. In fact, if he was alone in the world, he would never want to wake up. He wishes, at least, he could wake up later. Curse his early rising and his going to bed late. Or rather, sometimes going to bed at early times, like fucking 17:00, and waking up at 4:30.  
As you can probably tell, his sleeping habits are shit. But, no one seems to notice, because he takes extra precautions to put on makeup to hide the evidence. He decides he wants to sleep for an extra hour or two. He writhes and squirms to get comfortable enough, but he just can’t go back to fucking sleep. He gives up and finally rolls out of his seemingly too comfortable bed at this situation, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, almost giving himself whiplash in the process. He sighs and pushes himself off the bed, and stands up to go to the bathroom. He takes a long shower, trying to soothe the ache that’s deep in his bones. He scrubs till his skin is nearly raw, trying to get all of the dirt off, and once he’s done he dries and puts on some casual clothes. After he finishes dressing, he goes back to the bathroom. 

When he gets there, he hesitantly looks up at the mirror. What he sees is dark circles under his somehow sleep-deprived-looking eyes, his terrible bed head, hair sticking up in the most random of places, and other things Tyler doesn’t want to admit. He quickly looks away, ashamed by his appearance. _Looks I’ll need a lot of makeup this time,_ he thinks bitterly. He almost hastily applies the facial stuff to make him look _somewhat_ normal, and he tries not to make it look like he does this to himself. 

Once he’s _somewhat_ satisfied with his handiwork (because he never is), he uses the bathroom. Then he walks back into his bedroom, and flops back onto his grey and white striped bed, and just flops back down, waiting for it to be seven, since he’s already done with his morning routine. He doesn’t go to the kitchen to get anything to eat, because he never has an appetite in the morning, and just stares at his wall, full of posters the crew and other people have given him over the years. Once his alarm beeps at 7:00, he gets off of his bed, and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing his phone that was charging on the small island. He pulls the charger out and walks to his front door. For a moment, he just stares at the rich, dark mahogany wood. Then he snaps out of it and heads over to Mark’s (Markiplier, if you don’t know) house. It takes him about fifteen minutes to get there, since he knows the track to get there by heart now. As he should. It used to take from a range of twenty to twenty-five minutes, so he used to have to wake up earlier. Lucky him. 

Once he gets there, he blanks out again, looking at the intricate little silver swirls in the white painted wood. How they look almost like dissipating clouds, and how easily the day can go by, in a quick swirl. But, for Tyler, a day can seem like a year or two. He hates it. Once he snaps out of it, he knocks on the door. Three times, real slow.  
Mark opens it in one swift movement, peeking his out from behind it. Ethan is right behind him.  
“Hey, Tyler! Today I was planning on doing something with a mini trampoline. Come in. We have some crackers and coffee, if you want them.”  
“Sounds great,” Tyler said nonchalantly, forcing a smile.

He’s done it so many times he knows how to make it seem genuine.

Ethan smiles up at him.  
“Hey!” he says, “How’re you? Um, about the trampoline thing. If you wanted to jump on it, me and Mark have already been planning on doing so, and the box on it said it can only carry two people. Is that okay?” To Tyler it sounded so silly that he would want to jump on a stupid trampoline, but he understood why Ethan was saying it. And he looked so cute, trying to ask if he was okay with them jumping on a trampoline. But he didn’t feel pressured to explain that he thought jumping on trampolines was stupid.  
“I’m fine, and no, I don’t really want to jump onto the trampoline. It’s _all_ yours.” The brightening of Ethan’s face made Tyler feel a little better. He swore he could hear Ethan saying a little, “yay he’s not mad,” under his breath as he skipped over to Mark’s kitchen.

When Tyler got to the kitchen, Ethan was helping himself to some Ritz crackers and there were a few mugs of black coffee on the table, and Ethan held one in his hand.   
“Want some?” Ethan asked conversationally.  
“Do I want some coffee or some crackers?” Tyler asked. Ethan looked at him.  
“Either one’s good,” he answered, nudging a mug his way and threw (pretty weakly) some crackers in his direction. Tyler nudged them back.  
“I’m not hungry, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s your second coffee,” he said as a joke.  
“How’d you know?” he said, and Tyler couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.   
“And by the way, have you had anything else this morning, or . . ?” Ethan said, almost succeeding in masking his concern in a grin. It came out as a half-grimace, half-smile. Tyler shrugged. He didn’t meet Ethan’s eyes.  
“I never really have an appetite in the morning.” Ethan wasn’t backing down.  
“C’mon, dude! You’ve gotta eat something,” he shoved a cracker into Tyler’s hand. “breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Tyler gave the cracker back.  
“I’m not hungry,” he said firmly. “and why do you care so much? You haven’t before.”   
“Because I kind made a little resolution, even though it’s not near December or January. It was to notice more, and to care more. So that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Tyler almost failed to stifle his sigh of annoyance. He didn’t need someone to be watching his back— scratch that— _want_ someone watching his back at the moment. He didn’t care if he needed it, or not.  
“ _Really_ ,” Tyler tried to protest, “I’m _fine_. It’s _ok_.” Ethan glared at him forcefully, and this time he didn’t protest when Ethan shoved the cracker back into his hand, even though he felt like he would throw up if he ate it. The look on Ethan’s face stopped all argument. Maybe he could go to the couch and _pretend_ he ate the cracker. Maybe then Ethan would leave him alone.

Tyler sauntered over to the couch and plopped down, and turned away from Ethan. Then he made it seem like he was eating the cracker and tried to make convincing eating sounds. It looked like it worked. Luck was finally on his side! He sighed contentedly, and watched as Ethan went over to where he assumed Mark was— probably to start the video or something. Tyler swiftly ran over to the trash can and dumped the cracker in it with all of anger; trying to get out at least _one_ negative emotion in his brain for a few minutes. He patted himself on the back triumphantly.  
“Take _that_ , cracker.” he said, and followed Ethan to Mark’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> I DON’T care if I italicized too much. It just felt right, okay? So, anyways . . . Hope you liked it! And um . . . hopefully I’ll get around to updating in this century. Buh Bye!
> 
> :3


End file.
